User blog comment:Bartholomew Billberry Bowstring/Mossflower Country & Beyond/@comment-3474228-20110807202018

Sterling stands, leaning against a sycamore, looking out across the sea and out to the horizon, where somewhere, the island of Sampetra lies. He sighs and his gaze travels towards his most prized possession, a vessel which drifts idly by the shore, by the name of The Firhound

A sudden tap on his shoulder brings him back to reality. He turns around swiftly and his eyes fall on a young otter with an eyepatch over his left eye. Sterling nods. "Yes, Koden?" The otter shifts around in his boots.

"We're all gettin' res'less, Skip! The boys need some activity, we can't jus' sit 'round a fire all day roastin' pigeons an' chewin' on seaweed!" Koden's right eye seems to plead with Sterling. The Skipper shrugs and looks towards the setting sun, then to his own crew, a rabble of the roughest sea otters in all of Mossflower, rather unlike himself.

The Skipper pats Koden on the shoulder. "Then what're ye waitin' for! Y'don't need my permission t'go on an adventure! Get 'em ready, all paws on deck, we sail t'plunder, mates!" Koden runs down to tell the others, but finds himself staring at a deserted clearing, the dust left behind from the pounding paws of twenty five otters as they leap on board The Firhound